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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28526004">Make Me Sway</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsisaplanet/pseuds/marsisaplanet'>marsisaplanet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Faking God [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternative Universe - Mafia, M/M, The Comfy Cartel, but like with some spiCE, it's just them flirting with eachother and death, that's all this is, we stan sexy ballroom scenes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:00:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28526004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsisaplanet/pseuds/marsisaplanet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Corpse walked along the edges of the ballroom, past the caterers, past the wife of an oil baron he would likely be pursued by later, past the large arched windows with white billowy curtains to a balcony, somehow devoid of people, except for one man.</p><p>In a dark green suit.</p><p>.</p><p>Alternatively: Corpse is hired to kill Sykkuno. Instead, they dance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Faking God [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Server Simps</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Make Me Sway</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was fitting that the mark was at a masquerade ball. It was convenient if anything, Corpse wouldn’t have to buy a mask to fit in. He had pulled out his best, and only, suit for the occasion. Dressing to impress was a staple part of his image. After all, he had a reputation to uphold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To say that the hotel was nice was obviously an understatement. These events were always too grand for Corpse’s taste. The company was fake, the food would go to waste, and the only enjoyable part of his evening would likely be the music. Maybe a dance or two before he had to clean the blood off of his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was known as Corpse for several reasons. He was quick, effective, and always managed to make things clean. The one time things had gotten messy, it was personal. He always followed instructions, but took liberties when needed. This wouldn’t be one of those rare occasions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But while he was known for how effective he was, he was also known for the air of mystery surrounding him. Why did he wear that purple bunny mask? Why was his voice so deep? Was that a burn scar on his face? Did he really start this job at the age of seventeen?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He never gave information about himself, but he took everything that people gave him. The smallest movement made Corpse know exactly how to undo a person. How to ruin them.  </span>
  <span>The issue with being effective, of being so precise, is the inevitability of being paired with others. That inevitability leads to another inevitable thing; failure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Corpse never failed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, working alone it was. Working for hire it was. Avoiding cartels and ignoring business offers it was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Corpse had a lovely conversation with a bank teller one afternoon before he had to rob the place. He could be social when he needed to be. </span>
  <span>But he was never social at these events, except for maybe a quickie with some CEO’s wife in a hotel room after. He always seemed to lure them in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s just another job. Just another mark. He doesn’t even know the name of who he’s supposed to kill. He doesn’t know his face either, ironically enough.. All he knows is the man would be wearing a dark green suit. </span>
  <span>Dark green was nice, he supposed. Plants, forests, the Pacific Northwest. Maybe he could move to Washington? They had plenty of serial killers there. Plenty of work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the ballroom was calling with its expansive marble flooring and columns. The chandelier that hung in the center of the room was an overstatement. It was too much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This job might be too much. The champagne was a nice touch though. A nice way to ignore the gun hidden inside his suit jacket, carefully polished and tucked away. Always efficient. Always deadly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse walked along the edges of the ballroom, past the caterers, past the wife of an oil baron he would likely be pursued by later, past the large arched windows with white billowy curtains to a balcony, somehow devoid of people, except for one man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a dark green suit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His arms were draped over the edge of the balcony, a glass of champagne to his left. He took a sip as he looked at the cityscape around him. There was a clear night sky, seemingly devoid of stars, yet somehow twinkling nevertheless. It was a beautiful view, even if there were too many buildings for Corpse’s taste. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse sipped his champagne before walking to the edge of the balcony and standing next to him. He didn’t speak a word. The man next to him made no acknowledgement of him for two minutes before he finally said:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who sent you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse laughed at that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No introductions?” he asked, before finally turning to look at the man’s face. The only thing he could see was a classic white Venician mask, edged with gold and covered in dark green leaves. Was this the air of mystery that others felt when they looked at him? Was it always because of the mask?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I already know who you are,” the man replied. “There doesn’t seem like a need to be any.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I want to have the pleasure of knowing the name of the man I’m about to kill,” Corpse said lowly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I don’t want you to know,” the man bit back. Corpse raised his hands in defense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” the man said, turning away from Corpse to look at the city yet again. “No one truly knows your name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am what I am for a reason,” Corpse replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I want to have the pleasure of knowing the name of the man I’m about to be killed by.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, but that’s the thing,” Corpse turned to look at the man. “You can’t always get what you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who sent you?” The man stopped leaning against the railing, suddenly straight as a statue. “Dream SMP?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know I can’t reveal that information,” Corpse replied. “All in the name of-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anonymity,” the man finished. “I know. This isn’t the first time I’ve been around your work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My work?” Corpse asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” the man giggled. “You are an artist after all.” Corpse blinked in surprise. There was an empty pause as he took another sip of his drink. He had a feeling that things were going to be a bit different tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The general population would disagree with you,” he finally replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fortunately enough for you,” the man took a few steps towards Corpse before looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not the general population.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse swallowed. He could see the man much more clearly now that they were in such close proximity. His eyes glinted behind the white mask. Whether it was a mischievous glint or a fear of death was up to the eye of the beholder. Corpse was beginning to think it was the first. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Corpse whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m supposed to ask you the same thing,” the man replied. “Aren’t I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse set his champagne down on the railing. If it fell on top of one of the passerbys below, he honestly didn’t give a shit. He was facing something intriguing, and he hadn’t been intrigued in a long, long time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man set his glass down on the railing as well, before clasping his hands together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get this over with,” he said before gesturing to the ballroom. “Shall we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s it?” Corpse asked. “No pleas, no bargains, no dramatics?” The man shrugged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see the need for it,” he said yet again. “If I escape, I escape. If I’m killed, I’m killed. Either way, there will be hell for you to pay. Whether it’s at the hands of the people who hire me, or the people who have hired you, is the question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man smiled. He just smiled. No regrets foreseeable, not a weakness for Corpse to inspect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s the answer going to be Corpse?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse stood. He didn’t waver, but his eyes would’ve been wide if he could reveal weakness in the same way so many of his marks did. The answer was there. It was at the forefront of his brain and on the tip of his tongue. Something primal inside of him screamed at him to let this man go. To let things get interesting. To let him get to see this man again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the music cut him off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The jazz band that had been hired to play had decided that now was a good time to begin. Couples began to head towards the dance floor, all so they could gently hold each other in front of other people. Socially acceptable PDA. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Saved by the bell,” the man said. “Were you supposed to kill me before or after 8 o’clock?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Neither,” Corpse almost stuttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then how about a dance?” It was a coy offer. Corpse couldn’t tell if it was purely jest or if the man was serious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s how you want to spend your final moments?” Corpse asked. The man shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something tells me that these moments aren’t so final,” the man extended his hand out to Corpse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a message in the invitation. A “Come with me”. A “Stay with me”. An “I want to get to know you.” And for once, it felt genuine. This man wasn’t prettying his words, he wasn’t intentionally flattering him. This man was not for show, he was for honesty. And that was rare in this business. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse grabbed the man’s hand before putting his other hand on the man’s waist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, so I guess you’re leading then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you prefer to?” Corpse asked, already directing the man along to the music. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a bit too late for that,” the man replied as Corpse dipped him. “Don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You seem like the type of person that knows how to get their way,” Corpse replied. “If you wanted to lead, you would be by now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if I wanted to live?” the man asked, their chests almost touching. If the man was just two centimeters closer, he surely would’ve been able to feel Corpse’s heart beating rapidly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I might just let that be up to debate.” Somehow, Corpse managed to reply casually. The man let out a noise of satisfaction before humming along to the music. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When marimba rhythms start to play,” he whispered into Corpse’s ear. “Dance with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make me sway,” Corpse replied, deep and low. This man might just be the death of him. It was supposed to be the other way around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Comfy cartel,” the man said. Those two words made Corpse chuckle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, so that’s why you know me,” he said, all the while swaying with the man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I would know you even if I wasn’t a member,” the man said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even if Scarra didn’t own you,” Corpse whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembered the offers. Remembered how tempted he had been. How many friends had joined, how many friends were there. But companionship ended and failure. And Corpse, like a mantra in his head, had a reputation to uphold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse. Never. Failed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t be a loss for you if you came,” the man said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Corpse sighed. “But it’s not worth it.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even if I gave you a reason to?” the man asked. Corpse had a feeling the man was the reason. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse shook his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was worth a try,” the man replied before laying his head on Corpse’s chest. He definitely could feel Corpse’s heartbeat, but that was one thing he couldn’t control. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse blushed, something that he never did. Only because he knew the man wouldn’t be able to see his reaction. Only because he knew that no one else would be able to pierce him from that slight bit of weakness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because despite the fact that he was known for being a monster, he was still a bit human inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like a flower bending in the breeze,” the man whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bend with me,” Corpse said. “Sway with ease.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man pressed the pads of his fingers against Corpse’s lips, silencing him. A hush, a warning, a signal to wait. It was far more intimate than it was probably intended to be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse was no longer in control. Granted, he may have never been. But if there was any doubt as to who was manipulating the situation, that doubt had been completely cast aside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kissed the fingers that were against his mouth. Pressed them oh, so, gently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” the man whispered. “The kiss of death.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse hummed, almost growling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More like the kiss of life,” he replied. The man smirked, but Corpse could see the surprise behind his eyes. Corpse let go of the man, taking only a single step away from him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose that means I’ll be seeing more of you?” the man asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only if you want me to,” Corpse replied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man retook that step, pulling a sleek white card out of his suit pocket before putting it in Corpse’s right hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want you to,” he said. Corpse nodded. He didn’t look at the card. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, the man reached up and pressed his lips to Corpse’s cheek, not out of honor or respect, but out of something entirely different. And then slowly and silently, the man walked away, back into the ballroom, back into the crowd. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corpse stared at him, losing track of the emerald green between the suits and gowns. He slowly unclenched his hand, revealing the card in his hand. He flipped it over and saw a name, a company, and a number.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sykkuno</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Comfy Cartel</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(218)-555-7274</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One business card made it all worth it. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know this story is a bit cliche but whatever</p><p>AO3: marsisaplanet<br/>Blr: thebriarpatch (I don't post that much but check it out if you'd like)</p><p>Kudos and comments are always appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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